


In the Pale Moonlight

by tsumumii



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Bokuaka - Freeform, Christmas Angst, Christmas Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Post-Time Skip, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:40:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28187814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tsumumii/pseuds/tsumumii
Summary: “Have I ever told you how beautiful you look in the pale moonlight?”A Christmas night like no other with Bokuto Koutarou and Akaashi Keiji.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou
Comments: 3
Kudos: 15





	In the Pale Moonlight

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I wrote this for a friend this week for Christmas and she insisted I posted so here I am...this version consists a different ending from the one i wrote for her which i tweaked it for ao3, but I hope it still satisfies. :)

Akaashi Keiji has always been a man of reason; of precision, plans and schedules. Even after being made fun of in his youth for being much too stoic and calculating, never once did it cross his mind to change. He liked his organization. He needed it.

Nevertheless...there is an exception to these habits he holds ever so close to him.

Despite being his best friend, Bokuto Koutarou is everything Akaashi isn’t. He is a man of heart, passion and impulsive decisions - in the most charming way possible. Bokuto is Akaashi’s exception to his life of demanding organization, and never once has it crossed his mind to change that either; the contrast was a rush to him, an inexplicable flutter in his chest. Akaashi knows they are exactly who they were meant to be, fitting of their strengths.

Shining under stadium lights, it has always been clear that Bokuto was meant for the spotlight, his smile brighter than the stars and his plays as powerful as an ocean wave; the professional volleyball player is a force to be reckoned with and a person all can’t help but love. Yes, everyone loves Bokuto, from the cameras to all the fans, and Akaashi watches with pride as his exact opposite is adored.

Always watching.

Perhaps with more than pride…

No, not perhaps.

Without a doubt, Akaashi watches his best friend with a lot more than just pride. Still, not many could catch it, not even Bokuto himself, because while Bokuto thrives in expressions of emotion and lives in the adrenaline of volleyball matches with his teammates, Akaashi works within deadlines and the sound of quiet typing with the blurred echoes of the vibrant city of Tokyo, keeping to himself and putting his heart into his work. Only briefly while buried under his work will Akaashi take a moment to watch Bokuto’s live matches, or even simply look at pictures of him and his best friend. Only then could anyone ever catch that ‘more-than-pride’ in his dark green eyes that always seems to shift colours like the swaying canopy of a rich forest.

Akaashi always insisted to himself that that was enough, that those brief moments were all he needed, even when no one else saw them. They were emotions only meant for Bokuto anyways…

...and yet tonight it all feels like too little.

Sitting in a charcoal-coloured velvety armchair next to the large window of the living room of their apartment, overlooking the now dark, city streets, Akaashi holds a cup of warm tea in his elegant hands, holding the mug to his lips as he takes a sip and wistfully watches the cars pass by as the clock by the kitchen ticks away in the silence of the home. For it being Christmas Eve, the house is much too quiet. 

For it being Christmas Eve, Akaashi feels far too alone.

It’s an odd feeling in his chest, a tight squeeze at the heart type of longing and regret that seems to only get more painful the more he thinks of Bokuto. He wasn’t a stranger to this feeling, but tonight it’s different. There’s more weighing down on his mind, a trickle of anxiety seeping through the cracks of his usual calm and composed self. It’s why Akaashi had made the tea and decided to watch the sun set and the night sky begin to glow with light traces of snow, all in the hopes he’d be able to keep himself satisfied with the little moments and the memories…

But there was no pushing it away this time. He knows that; not when Bokuto promised he’d be home tonight and he still wasn’t there.

Admittedly, as Akaashi glances at the clock ever so often, the later it got, the more jealous he became of Bokuto’s teammates that always got to share his excitement and joys, his victories and experiences he was no longer there for. Of course, it wasn’t that Akaashi had no one else around him. He was very grateful for Udai's company at work and outside of it, grabbing lunch together when given the opportunity, and there were others he’d at times run into again at times...but they aren’t Bokuto.

Then again, none of Bokuto’s teammates are Akaashi either and maybe he was late for that very reason. Bokuto is his exception to his habits, but was he really Bokuto’s?

Setting his tea down in his lap, Akaashi fiddles with his fingers and stares down into the almost empty mug nervously, trying to recover from his anxious over-thinking though his thoughts have already begun to overflow overwhelmingly.

Bokuto and him are best friends, that much Akaashi knows. Ever since they both graduated high school, one year apart, they had made a promise to get an apartment together as soon as time allowed. It may have seemed like a silly promise full of naive wishes to anyone else, but foolish or not, only 3 years later, right before Akaashi’s university graduation, they fulfilled that promise, both of them excited in their own way, moving in and spending as much time as they could with each other. Then Akaashi started working and Bokuto got busier with the more frequent training he started going through for his team, MSBY, but that had never defined how much they’d hear from each other before; they were best friends, after all. 

Even during interviews Bokuto would try to hurry Akaashi up with his questions despite his responsibility to his job so they could go get some dinner together before heading home. They made the most of the time they had...and now…

Now it was a little bit different, as all seemed to be lately.

Most of the time, it was Akaashi alone in their apartment, working from home if he hadn’t finished his writing at the office or reading if there was nothing else to do. It wasn’t anyone’s fault of course, Bokuto just had to spend more nights at hotels now to travel for games and special training sessions with his teammates. for Christmas though, he had promised he’d be home. Bokuto promised Akaashi they would get their time again.

Did he want to keep that promise? What are they? What are they doing here, living together and building their lives around each other? These are all Akaashi’s current doubts, and tonight they are more of a tempest than usual.

Akaashi is worried Bokuto won’t come home to him. But more than that, he is worried that home to Bokuto isn’t really him.

Not the way he wants to be.

Why aren’t the little moments enough anymore? Because Akaashi wants more, and not just more time or moments. He wants Bokuto to want more too, but just as they are polar opposites, Akaashi has never been one to express it all out loud.

Or maybe it was just the fear of the uncertainty.

With a sigh, Akaashi then watches the clock declare it 11:00 pm, his heart heavy, body and mind growing ever so tired.

Bokuto promised. In that much he had to believe in, even if there was no time for any real dinner Akaashi had planned to have with him…

Bokuto promised…

—

“Akaashiii! Akaashi I’m back! Did you miss me??”

Silence.

“Akaashi?!”

When Bokuto came back from his most recent travels, suitcase in hand and smile bright on his face like always, the last thing he had expected to do was come home to no greeting on Christmas Eve. Especially when he had promised Akaashi he’d be there.

“Am I...am I even in the right apartment?” Bokuto mutters to himself, suddenly worried he had gotten the wrong number again, but as he looked around, leaving his suitcase at the entrance, he knew that was impossible. The house smells sweet with a hint of lavender just like Akaashi, (probably because he spent the most time here), something Bokuto could never mistake for anyone else. 

More than that, he recognizes the modern hardwood floors and small, Japanese-style wooden kitchen, the way they had followed the kitchen with a traditional chabudai table as the center of their apartment and past that the single armchair to the side against the cream-white walls while the large window gives them all the light they needed during the day, showering them with stars at night. Bokuto has come to know each and every detail of this home like the back of his hand because at the end of the day, these were the walls that were for only him and Akaashi.

So yes, Bokuto was definitely in the right apartment...but then why…

“Akaashi?”

As Bokuto turns his head to the living room, his smile previously full of life now faltering, his golden eyes land on their chabudai table currently filled with some of Bokuto’s favourite foods, all decorated to go with the Christmas tree situated near the window and a few metres away from the table off to the left corner. Right after realizing it was all completely untouched, his gaze shifts to a sleeping Akaashi with tea still in hand to the opposite side of the tree, dark hair ruffled as his head leans against the side of their armchair Bokuto had insisted in buying last Christmas because “it just matched”.

At first, the sights presented are a little much to take in for Bokuto, mixed feelings rushing in and creating confusion in his thoughts, his heart pounding rapidly as he simply stares at the scene in front of him.

Then, slowly, he begins to process it all.

The food on the table was prepared by Akaashi himself for Bokuto after his long travels. He could tell he made it himself because Bokuto had simply learned to differentiate that sort of thing (plus, that would explain the reason Akaashi had been spending more time with Miya Osamu lately according to Atsumu).

Akaashi hadn’t greeted him because he had fallen asleep waiting for him, and somehow, even while sleeping, there’s a sadness to the expression on Akaashi’s face Bokuto wishes he couldn’t recognize. The warm glow of the Christmas tree lights casts soft shadows over the dark haired man, his nose and cheeks kissed softly by the light and highlighting his soft, pale skin while his chest under his white turtleneck rises and falls with every slow, deep breath taken. He looks peaceful, yet at the same time bound by loneliness.

Watching and trying to decide what to do, Bokuto didn’t even need to ask himself why Akaashi had ended up like this on Christmas Eve. He knew it was because he had promised Akaashi he’d be there, and Akaashi is a man of plans and schedules while he was one of spontaneity.

Of course he would wait, of course he would work hard to prepare a worthy meal...

...and of course Bokuto unintentionally missed all he had prepared.

Walking over as softly as he can, not an easy feat for the volleyball star, trying to ignore the sudden guilt and hesitation blooming in his mind, Bokuto then places a hand on Akaashi’s shoulder and shakes him gently, being careful not to disrupt the glasses sitting on his pretty face.

“Akaashi!”

Startled at the sudden touch and voice of Bokuto Koutarou so close, Akaashi wakes up almost immediately, looking first at Bokuto’s hand on him and then up to meet the golden pools that are Bokuto’s eyes with his green ones, for a moment of shock forgetting how to speak, both men somehow stunned at seeing the other with noses practically touching.

“Bokuto...you’re here...what time is it?” Akaashi mumbles, visibly a bit flustered as he tries to get up quickly from the couch and set his empty mug of tea on the table, Bokuto giving Akaashi space as he looks up at the clock and self-consciously fixes his hair while doing so.

12:37am.

“Why are you so late?” Akaashi then asks gently after taking in the time, but Bokuto can hear the controlled strain in his voice. He is sure that if he said it how he meant it, the question would turn into a demand for an answer. 

Heart now sinking at the sight and sound of Akaashi’s hidden disappointment Bokuto has also learned to place from their high school days and his scoldings, a spark of determination to be more positive and lighten up the darkened mood between them ignites inside the athlete, and so Bokuto begins to explain as if telling an amusing story meant to be laughed at in the hopes that Akaashi would understand it hadn’t been his intention to keep him waiting. “Oh, well the team stayed out a little longer just to celebrate our recent victories...and then I took the wrong bus while trying to get back, but I made it! That’s what counts right? We’re home together now!”

As soon as Akaashi sighs, Bokuto knows he is unsure of what to make of his reasoning, Akaashi’s green eyes watching him carefully. Surely he would know it wasn’t a lie, right? Surely Akaashi of all people would know that he would never mean to intentionally leave him alone like this? They are best friends after all, always together since high school no matter their differences…

“I...yes. Welcome back, Bokuto.”

...so why as they both stood there in front of each other could Bokuto tell that what he had said wasn’t enough any longer for Akaashi? Why did hurt still cling to the emerald eyes he loved so dearly?

“Come on, Akaashi! There’s no need to overthink this, it’s still Christmas and the night is young!” Bokuto tries to (quite desperately) keep pushing his positivity on to his best friend in the hopes of cheering him up, reaching over to take Akaashi’s hand to pull him towards the table, but even as soon as their hands touch he can feel Akaashi stiffen and pull away, staring at him blankly.

He doesn’t understand why Akaashi has suddenly grown so cold, but Bokuto knows it has something directly to do with him. It was obvious. Was he really so mad? That was rare from Akaashi...he was used to nagging...but anger, frustration? Bokuto had never felt it so strongly towards him from Akaashi.

Perhaps the only time he had seen anything similar from Akaashi was at nationals in Bokuto’s third year of high school, right when Akaashi had begun to overthink all their plays. It has the same level of frustration and hurt to the way he is now...and still it’s completely different.

Why? Was it because of the food? He still planned on eating it...couldn’t they just-

“I’m tired Bokuto. We can do whatever you want tomorrow, ok? Or you can go back to your teammates tomorrow too. Whichever. Merry Christmas.”

“Akaashi, wait!” Bokuto pouts, beginning to panic. This was new, too new. What was wrong? He couldn’t tell. He thought he knew him better than anyone else. So what was wrong? “Akaashi, eat with me at least!”

“It’s all for you anyways.” Is all the raven haired man responds, walking down the small hall of their apartment just past the dining area to the bedrooms, entering his room without a second look to Bokuto, disappearing into the darkness of the gentle night, light snow beginning to fall outside their window just as Akaashi closes his door, Bokuto left in complete disarray.

“Akaashi?”

—

The next hour was one of the longest in Akaashi’s life, he was sure of it. The apartment had become eerily silent for a house with Bokuto in it, Akaashi’s heart being the only thing he could hear pounding as he replayed their interactions over and over again as he lay in his bed after changing into his usual sleepwear, a large white shirt and some soft, grey pants, blankets layered on his body in an attempt to comfort himself in warmth with his thoughts all over the place.

Akaashi was simply tired of it all.

His heart ached, his efforts feeling overlooked. They weren’t in high school anymore, simple praise on the court wasn’t what Akaashi searched for in Bokuto anymore.

Not after years of being in love with him.

Setting his glasses on top of his night table next to his bed, Akaashi buries his face into his pillow, closing his eyes wishing he could yell and make noise as his heart did, then settling with just letting out a deep breath as he turns his head to the side again, eyes heavy while just at the corner of his eyes he sees the snow has begun to fall, each snowflake gracefully and without hurry dancing in the winter wind. Everything felt to be moving so slow; everything had begun to feel so cold...

“Koutarou...is there something wrong with me?” Akaashi whispers to himself in the dark of his room, eyelids growing heavy, the world becoming fuzzy all around him. “Am I the only one that thinks of these things? If I tell you...will you feel the same way? I can’t plan something like that...I can’t reason something like that...I wish...I wish I could just tell you…I wish it would all make sense...”

—

Akaashi had never been one to sleep so deeply, but when something is on his mind, sleeping is most usually not even an option. Disrupted by his inability to stay truly still, tonight was no exception.

Getting up from his bed only an hour after he had fallen asleep, Akaashi reluctantly checks the time on his phone, and when he sees it reads 1:42 am, a deep disappointment is clear on his sleepy face as it dawns on him that he has barely managed to rest at all. Now deciding to give up on the idea of sleep altogether, Akaashi then proceeds to walk out of his room as quietly as possible, not wanting to wake up Bokuto who he assumed was completely passed out in his own room. 

Reaching the living room, the glow of the city lights leaking through and casting shadows in the otherwise dark home, Akaashi notices almost immediately that all the food he had prepared has been left untouched and instead were wrapped and put carefully in containers so to not spoil the food, causing Akaashi a bit of confusion.

Had Bokuto not liked what he had prepared? He had been so sure he would have liked it, and he was rarely ever wrong if at all about what Bokuto liked…

Was it his cooking? No...He had spent too much time with Osamu and sometimes even Atsumu (out of coincidence, Atsumu was actually a pretty terrible cook, but he had good taste) to make sure the makeup of the food was just right.

So why?

Walking closer to the table to inspect the job done, a light frown of concern carved into the expression on his face, the possibility that Bokuto had simply wanted to eat with him instead of alone crosses his mind and lights up his eyes momentarily, until Akaashi looks up from the table and to the window, the walls of the house suddenly feeling tighter, closing in.

He had gotten out of bed in the hopes that he could clear his mind out of his room, but now he has only confirmed that he could never possibly be relieved of his thoughts of Bokuto in the very home they had built together.

Everything felt suffocating for Akaashi tonight; the analysis he felt the need to do over every detail chaining him to his haunting anxiety.

Of course Bokuto wanted to wait for him. In fact, he had probably left him disappointed. Bokuto loved sharing meals with those he cared about, and it wasn’t his care that Akaashi doubted and agonized over.

It was only the reason for it all, and he was starting to think that the only way to get any results was to just confess it all to Bokuto Koutarou, his best friend, his star…

“How do I tell you I’ve loved you since the beginning and I don’t want to let you go?” Akaashi murmurs, his gaze shifting from the window to the door of the apartment, finally coming to the decision to take a walk to think it over.

Maybe the cold of the December winter winds would bring some clarity.

—

2:15 am.

Bokuto had been staring at his alarm clock in his room for the last 15 minutes, the red shine of the 3 digits displayed on the dark screen of it reflected in his golden eyes filled with unease.

After Akaashi had gone to sleep in his room, Bokuto had gone to shower to get into his pajamas - which just consisted of his old sports wear he no longer needed -, his hair freshly washed and down over his face without the usual gel in it. Feeling guilty as he had been about to head to bed himself, he had decided to first put away the food Akaashi had made as best as he could though hungry enough to eat it, feeling it not right to eat without him, Christmas or not.

Bokuto had really been looking forward to come home and spend the night with Akaashi, to admire his sweet smiles while he talked about the best parts of his day, the way his eyes would glitter in awe when Bokuto then took his turn to explain the best part of each game or training session with his teammates, adding an anecdote here and there of Atsumu and Sakusa’s arguing. Yet somehow the night had gone completely wrong.

Was it really his fault? Bokuto couldn’t stop thinking of that possibility after Akaashi had walked away without another look back, an emptiness even in his words when he had welcomed him home.

Something was definitely wrong. So wrong that it was enough for Akaashi to even flinch at Bokuto’s touch, when usually he welcomed any embrace or hold of his hand…

...and Bokuto had concluded from this that it was most definitely his fault.

The worst part? He didn’t know what he had done, and he could not go to sleep without knowing.

Bokuto could not sleep with Akaashi mad at him.

He could not sleep thinking the man he loved so dearly no longer wanted anything to do with him.

Deciding to just get out of bed and just knock on his bedroom door in the hopes that Akaashi would answer, Bokuto stands in front of the door and takes a deep breath before knocking as gently as he could, though with his strength it was still a decent bang.

No answer.

Bokuto knocks one more time, and when he is once again met with nothing but silence, his desperation convinces him to simply open the door, and though worried he would be bothering Akaashi further after the dark haired man even deliberately ignored him (he knows even if he had been sleeping Akaashi would have woken up with the noise), that worry is quickly replaced with the fear Bokuto is met with when he sees Akaashi’s bed empty.

Where did he go? The question repeats in Bokuto’s mind as he rushes to the living room and finds no trace of Akaashi, alarm building in his chest, his blood pumped with adrenaline and squeezing his heart.

“His jacket is gone too...even his scarf...did he leave because of me?” Bokuto talks to himself in agitation, finding his boots at the front of the house and putting them on quickly, a part of him hoping if he had left, he could catch him just outside and convince him to stay.

Practically running out of the apartment building after what felt like hours in the building elevator, Bokuto’s heart beating wildly in his chest, the world begins to spin when he finds nothing but empty streets under the night sky and the taunting city lights of Tokyo, Akaashi nowhere to be seen.

“Was it my fault?”

—

“Bokuto?” Akaashi’s smooth, low voice rings out in the night when his eyes land on Bokuto just outside the doors of their apartment building seemingly out of breath, his chest rising up and down as if he had been running, cheeks and nose pink from the cold and the winter wind blowing through his black and white hair revealing his eyes that had always reminded Akaashi of the gold of the sunset frantic and searching.

“Bokuto!” Akaashi calls out his name louder, this time catching Bokuto’s attention.

Whipping around to his right towards the sound of Akaashi’s voice, Bokuto’s face lights up with relief and meets Akaashi’s, which is currently filled with confusion as to why Bokuto looks like a child that had just found something precious that had been taken away from him. Plus...Akaashi wasn’t sure if Bokuto had always been so beautiful against the white snow of the city, the muscle of his body clear under his old, tight long-sleeved shirt, snowflakes looking like small diamonds covering him from head to toe.

He couldn’t keep it to himself anymore. No matter what it could mean, Akaashi never wanted Bokuto to be anyone else’s, but before he gets a chance to speak, to apologize for his unusual behaviour with him earlier, Bokuto rushes over to him and pulls him in to a hug, burying his face into Akaashi’s scarf around his neck and holding him with such anguish, it scared Akaashi.

“Akaashi-“

“What happened, Bokuto? Are you ok? Is there something wrong?”

“Akaashi, don’t ever leave me.” Bokuto whispers in Akaashi’s ear as he lifts his head up from its position on him, slowly letting him go, Akaashi’s cheeks burning up and turning red, but not from the cold.

“What are you talking about? You’re making it sound like I almost died.”

“I thought you had had enough and decided to leave me. I thought I let you walk away. You...you deserve to be fought for, Akaashi. I’m sorry for whatever I did to upset you. Please don’t leave me.” Bokuto’s voice begs in the way that love pours out if his words, regret painfully obvious in his every syllable even if he wasn’t sure what he was apologizing for, though it was also obvious as to how much it didn’t matter for what. Bokuto would have apologized the exact same for any mistake.

...Love?

“Bokuto...I wasn’t going to leave you.” Akaashi reassures him, reaching a hand over and placing it on his shoulder, guilt swimming in the forest of his eyes as he sees the overflowing emotions coming from the volleyball star, like his very heart had been broken.

“You weren’t?” Bokuto asks softly, in disbelief.

“No...no, I would never do that. I could never leave you Bokuto. I love you too much for that.”

“Love me..?”

Hearing those words from Akaashi, Bokuto feels his lifetime of being left behind for being too much flash before his eyes, a lifetime of being misunderstood and pushing through it alone in the belief that it would all be worth it being given meaning by one man; those words sounding so sweet rolling off Akaashi’s tongue.

Too sweet in fact, because they were words Bokuto never got to hear that he would give anything in the world to.

With the rosey veil that had covered Bokuto’s eyes all night shattering, all the relief melting into throbbing torture piercing his heart when he sees it all melt away, the snow of the night disappearing, the city no longer retaining its glow, Bokuto finds himself standing alone, the warmth of Akaashi’s body gone from his arms, only a figment of his memories and daily desires.

It was snowing last Christmas, the day Akaashi died.

There was no snow on the ground this December.

He had gotten mad at him, he was sure…Akaashi hadn’t been feeling well that day...and just like that he was taken away from him without warning, in the middle of the night in Bokuto’s arms.

He was gone.

The apartment no longer smelled of Akaashi.

Not even his scarf did.

“Akaashi?” Bokuto calls out weakly though it’s pointless, his own body shaking, eyes beginning to blur through held back tears as reality dawns on him all over again, his knees barely able to hold him up any longer. “Then why did you? Why did you leave me, Akaashi?”

Unable to hold it in any longer, Bokuto then begins to silently sob, a hand clutching at his heart wishing that it had been him instead. Or at the very least...he wished to hold Akaashi in his arms for one more night. He wished to tell him all the things he never got to, all the things Akaashi deserved to hear.

“I never got to tell you I love you just how much I love you...and...I never got to tell you how beautiful you looked in the pale moonlight.”


End file.
